


Confirmand

by SaintSaens



Category: Trust (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Episode 8, Episode Related, F/M, Family Dynamics, Family Feels, Gen, Let's be honest, Original Character(s), Regina is a Queen, Salvatore's death was coming already, Trust, basically Leonardo having a mental breakdown, but for good reasons, francesco's confirmation, it's in her name I don't make the rules, lots of family feels, so many of them, surprisingly little of Primo here, that dancing scene, yes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:34:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27456565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaintSaens/pseuds/SaintSaens
Summary: "You do as I say" Primo had intimated to him that day.You do as I say.Leonardo's mind is reeling. The Getty boy, Salvatore's figurative spit in his and Regina's and  Primo's faces, the others families... he doesn't know where this is leading them. His only thought, as he watches the Capo's back, going up the hills to get the boy and have him killed, is that Primo better know what the fuck he is doing.
Relationships: Leonardo & Primo Nizzuto, Leonardo/Regina (Trust), Primo Nizzuto & Regina
Comments: 10
Kudos: 22





	Confirmand

**Author's Note:**

> That's it. I stopped lying to myself. I'm definitely obsessed with Trust. And Primo. And so I wrote this. And I don't know if it's going anywhere but just to be clear: I have a lot of feelings about episode 8 (who doesn't) and I feel in my heart for Leonardo who watches the entire circus go down. Poor guy. He is stressed.
> 
> I love Primo but Leonardo. He is going through so much, just give him a break. Just give him a break. 
> 
> Also, the title: confirmands are those going through the act of confirmation in the catholic church (ie the affirmation of their commitment and belief.)... Yes. It stands for Leo learning he will stand for every single soul in his family. I have a very bad sense of humor. Sue me.

"I give it to you. The nearest thing I have to a son."

Leonardo focuses his eyes on the knife his son is handling by his side. He doesn't care about Salvatore's speech, the fresh breeze coming down the mountains around them, or the absence of movement, of even breath at his back, where he knows Primo is sitting. He doesn't care. He can't make himself care. 

He focuses, forcing his body to relax, putting an arm around Francesco's chair. He would chuckle, if he let himself, he would chuckle and throw his own chair back and spit in Salvatore's face, the same way the man has spit in his and his wife's. And his son's. God, his son. 

He focuses, because despair is expanding in himself. And he doesn't want to let it drown him, there are so many things he is needed for. And God, his son is one of them. 

His son. 

Leonardo wonders if his fears and his pain can be seen behind his eyes. He knows he's never been good at hiding his heart, and Primo always went out of his way to make him react precisely because for all that he tried, Leonardo could never hide what he felt and what he thought well enough. His fear and his hopes, all clear in the lines of his face. So he focuses, and breathes shakily. 

His son, who is shining the blade this way and that, who looks at him with pride. As if there were any pride to be had here and now, with a blade that promises murder down the handle to who thinks he is powerful enough to take it. A weapon, a murder, that Salvatore had openly given to his son. His son. 

He knew that Salvatore always went out of his way to reach for what he considered his. He knew that Salvatore was the sort to look at you, smile at you, and then spit in the soup you had just given him. Only to take yours. And your wife's. And your son's. And still smile. Like it's the greatest gift you could ever have. 

Leonardo stays silent, as despair rages in him. Beneath the despair, the fear for Francesco, for themselves, there is a storm brewing, beneath his lungs, as the blade glints under the noon's sun. The sort that grows and grows and you cannot do anything but stand there as it overwhelms you, and rages at you. You take it. You go through. 

He is too old, for this. He feels too old. 

Leonardo focuses his eyes on his son. Because if he looks further, any further, to Regina who most certainly is as cold as he feels now, to Salvatore, the storm will break and there won't be any piece of him left for his son to bury. Because that's what would happen, to anyone who went head to head with the Capo of the family. No matter who was there to see. A dead name and not even a grave to grieve.

There are scattered applause, mechanical, around them, but Francesco doesn't see it. Distantly, Leonardo hears them echo behind him, as Primo claps too, slow, for the show. It's distorted, to Leo's ears, and he feels like they've all dug their own graves and they are now falling happily into it. 

Luckily, Francesco doesn't notice, the boy is too young to understand any of it really, his smile proud and juvenile. At eleven, what do you want to know of life and sacrifices. When his son downs the glass Salvatore has given him, told him to drink, not even asking, he looks happy and noble, he looks like a prince, stupidly proud of something he hasn't earned and will most certainly regret as he grows older. He glances around, at him, his father, at Regina, whose smile is as brittle as their oldest glass, even at Primo, with the most open smile he has. As if he hadn't just taken the place the man had been working for his whole life. There is no lessening of the smile, when Francesco toast at them all, so Leo can only trust that Primo didn't show any ill feelings toward his son. He can only hope Primo won't be mad enough to try and go after his son. 

Francesco. God, Francesco.

Leonardo wants to tug him beneath his arm, hide him from the Earth and make sure his beautiful innocent boy can grow to be better. 

But for now Leonardo smiles at him, kisses him, and in a breath, he thinks that's it, because no matter what Salvatore is saying, Leonardo won't let anyone take his son away from him. It's his son. 

His. 

When he catches Regina's eye over Francesco's curls, he can see the same resolution in her. She smiles at him, the smile of those who are doomed but accept it. They knew, both of them, what it meant, to be part of that clan. And yet, they had hoped, for Francesco... She smiles at him, and Leonardo has to blink, because in between a short instant and the next, he sees her eyes glide to the side of his head, where he knows, he feels, Primo lounging in his chair, and her smile is turning sharp, protective, but softening as soon as she looks back into his own eyes. 

Leonardo's heart beats twice as loud.   
And Salvatore smiles.

The storm, resolve in his guts, breaks suddenly, leaving place for a terrorized rain. Leonardo doesn't want to think about what that glance of hers means, what her and Primo had scheming. He won't look back, at Primo, nor at Eleonora, by the man's side. At all the others around, who might have caught that glance, who might have snapped to attention at the wolf that blinked into existence in Regina's place for a mere second. Beneath Salvatore. In spite of Salvatore. 

Regina, Leonardo thinks, would take over if she only wanted it. He feels scared, for what it could all mean.   
He feels scared, because he knows he would follow her to the end of it. Her, Primo, Francesco.

He would do anything, for his family.

Leonardo whispers to Francesco, to go and have fun with his friend, away from Salvatore, away from all of them. Enjoy his innocence, while he still can. Regina's soul has quieted for the moment, and she takes her own glass, and toasts to everyone, without looking Salvatore in the eye. 

Leonardo barely sees, when his eyes stray over the people sitting around their table. He breathes, and focuses, on the despair inside him. Because today feels like a cornerstone for this strange family of theirs. And he will be there to make sure they all come through. Whatever it takes. 

\- - - - 

" _Madonna, madonna, madonna_ " Leonardo mutters to himself as he pushes Francesco out of the dance and back to his little friends. 

With everything going on, the boy in the hills, Regina asking for a day of peace, Salvatore downgrading him, and Primo silently humiliated, Leonardo doesn't want to know, what it means. All of this.

That Regina looks now as resigned as the day they had married. That her eyes are just as hard and decided. It's the same look she had had when she had learned it was a son, she had given birth to. The same one she had had, when they had gone to ask Salvatore to be the godfather of their child. 

It's a look that means I know what I have to do and I will do it. I will even go further than you expected.   
You won't see it coming. 

Leonardo had never liked that look in her eyes. It meant resolve. It meant the wolf was near.  
It meant _vaffanculo_ , ultimately. And with her eyes trained on Salvatore, Leonardo feels like puking. 

He is too old for all of this.

Leonardo is drained, all of a sudden. He has danced, with Salvatore, with his son. He has danced, and now he wants it all to end. 

Because here is his wife, Regina. The mother of his son. And the both of them relegated to the side, after Salvatore's claim on their child.   
Because in the background, Francesco is playing around with a knife that had seen more blood than anyone should know of and now it was his to master. 

Because Primo's attempt at taking a place in this family, as brilliant as it might have been in the beginning, will most likely end up with him dying.   
And now, after everything, Salvatore won't have any qualms killing him. Killing them all, for lying to him. 

What with the boy being still theirs to deal with. And no one will bat an eye, now that Francesco is called the heir and everything's alright under the scalding sun of this mother fucking piece of dirt that is their village.

Leonardo feels faint.

But fuck. Where is the honor these days, he thinks as the music rings in his ears. Where is the honor. With a teenager locked away among their sheep, with a son taken from his parents' embrace to the devil's grip, and another devil kindling its own fire in their mists. Fuck it all, Leonardo thinks. 

When he takes a breath, tries to rule himself in, he sees Regina.   
And it's all he needs to settle his guts for now. 

Because there she stands, there she is. Armored full, and to those who almost never see her, she might look just slightly tired. Salvatore certainly doesn't notice, that the lines around her eyes are those that signify her fury is barely reigned in. Surrounded by music, and singing, she looks so inconsequential, but her eyes are cold, they are on watch, and they don't let anything pass them by. 

It spreads a coldness to Leonardo's heart, that on this day of all day, this had to go down. He can see she is frayed, still, at the seams. As if it all takes too much of her will. He feels sorry, so very sorry.

But she is still standing, that all Leo needs. 

Leonardo trusts her more than he does himself. If she stands, if she's on the look out, then he will help. It's the only thing he can try. Even as he curses at the skies and God for making him go through this, he forces himself to watch. Wondering, what the rest of their community is thinking. What they are all witnessing here.

Leonardo watches. 

Salvatore is still dancing. He has dragged Primo in. 

Leonardo's throat closes up. He wants to scream. 

But fuck it, why can't the old man leave him be. Since Primo came to be, in his brother's family, it's as if he was never to be taken seriously. Salvatore has played around with the boy, he has dangled in front of his eyes so many promises that he never fully fulfilled. Today of all day, Salvatore has looked at Primo, has smiled at the boy's many gifts, and has spat in his face. Clear and plain. Everyone could tell. 

(Francesco hadn't noticed. It's the only blessing this day could bring.)

It won't end well, that's what is coursing through Leonardo's mind as the music picks up and the men are still dancing around. For whom, Leonardo does not know yet, but it will be Salvatore or them. It won't end well.

And that's what has him on edge. So he looks around. And he gauges the people that call themselves family. He hopes he knows them all. Today of all day, he doubts his own abilities. The accountant has to see clear. But with the storm in his guts, and the determination in Regina's eyes, it's almost as if he himself were blind. 

Leonardo breathes, as Salvatore steps aside and waves more men in the circle. 

Be happy. Be joyful. I'm not asking. 

Primo is still dancing.   
And Leonardo keeps looking. 

He has to, to protect what is his. To protect his family. He won't let anything go by him, the way Salvatore is currently doing. 

By Regina's side, Eleonora Romeo is clapping, face impassive. But she stands close to his wife, tall, and her eyes, dark and unreadable, never seem to leave Primo. Leonardo doesn't know what to make of that, because back at lunch, they had barely looked at each other, although Salvatore had insisted they sit together. Leonardo doesn't try to make sense of the old man's many many attempts at ruling the both of them in; Eleonora, just like Primo, won't let herself be settled. Even if now she's looking at Primo with the calculating look her butcher of a father always had when he studied a new piece of meat. Leonardo won't let himself break over it. And so his eyes keep on going.

He does blink, when he sees Alfonso Romeo stepping in to dance. Leonardo feels old, his heart might be beating wild, and his eyes might be slightly too wide, but he is certain of one thing: when Alfonso steps in, passing Salvatore who had been calling him in, Alfonso's eyes are on Primo, and if Leonardo wasn't who he was, and hadn't been the one to shake hands around, to lend an ear to troubles, to watch as problems were solved, he might have taken that look for a threat on Primo's life. 

Primo just watches Alfonso back. 

Leonardo knows Alfonso, and he knows the family. Their eyes are as dark as their bad deeds. Their only redeeming quality is that they never loose track of their objective : the family. Always, the family. So, when Alfonso walks to Primo, what Leonardo sees is not a look that means he is out for his blood. When he raises his hand at Primo, briefly, but clearly, emboldened by the show Salvatore is building, it's not to say I'm closing in on your heels, start running. 

Alfonso looks at Primo, whose face is set and clear, clearer than it could ever be, and he salutes Primo, without a backward glance at the Capo, and it's all Leonardo needs to see to understand what is happening. 

Regina's head rises slightly, because of course she would see, and Eleonora by her side has a thin smile on her lips. 

Leonardo can scarcely believe it. But the Romeo family is backing him. Primo.   
And Salvatore hasn't noticed. 

It's a whirlwind almost, after this. 

Salvatore is nowhere to be seen, nor is Fifty, and Leonardo keeps blinking around, as if dazed and drunk out of his mind. Regina's eyes have lost their hardness, and she looks almost distressed at the relief coursing through her veins. Because Alfonso Romeo is dancing, and Giualiano Morabito has joined in, with a tip of his hat and a sharpened smile showing his teeth, and the oldest Surace too, with his wife, Carla, the Laganà daughter, and it all seems too much and it's all too sweet, because all of them appear to have given Primo their blessings. 

That's what he thinks. That's what he hopes, at least.

Leonardo doesn't know if it's relief or fear that rushes through to his bones, when Alfonso glances at him and winks.   
As if he's in on the deal. 

Leonardo isn't a fool. He thinks he isn't. So he tries to put things down, take a step back. And suddenly, it's not so much of a daze as a monster that crawls over his mind. Either the families have acknowledged Primo's place in all of this, or they are weaving the cord that will see him hanging. 

Leonardo feels like crying.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you a lot for reading! I hope you enjoyed it? I wrote a lot more, but before I can post anything I feel like I need to rewatch the episodes 8 to 10 and...currently I can't. Thanks internet. This work will be a focused writing of episode 8 from Leo's pov. And all his pains. And distress. I feel for the guy, seriously. 
> 
> Anyway, the original characters I created for this all have a reason to be here? And for being named? If I manage to go through the rewatch hopefully it will make sense (long story short: Primo, as good as he is, cannot have killed Salvatore without anyone else around knowing about it. It's just no. No. So consider this a beginning of explanation, from my brain. But Primo is still the best).


End file.
